Splintered: OS Tournament Rd. 1: Kataklysmos v. Ferus

[Lord Kataklysmos]

8 hours GST prior to the tournament:

Lord Kataklysmos entered the arena and simply breathed in the atmosphere. He smelled the pain this room had bared witness to. He smelled the old raw scent of blood, that had since been covered up by the odor of cleaning products. He viewed the primal stage, simple and stone. He felt the sorrow the servants setting up had known since occupation.

Yes, this would do. This was a place of Dark Side energy.

He smirked, darkly, and approached the slab that would serve as their dueling ground. He placed his hand upon the cool stone and visions of barbarism flashed through his head; flesh ripping, bones snapping, organs bursting, blood flowing, hearts stopping and every manner of bodily destruction imaginable.

Oh, yes, this was going to be a tournament to remember. Though... who would win had yet to cross his mind. The vision of his own future had yet to be meditated upon.

He raised his hands up and levitated to the top of the stage. He moved about it, inspecting every stone, every crack, every minor imperfection until that evil place was part of him; burned deeply in the worst places of his mind.

Finally he took his place, where he would start his first challenge and sat. He closed his aged eyelids and meditated on the dark, on the duel, on his powerful opponent and searched for the answers to defeat [member="Darth Ferus"] and any other opponent he might come upon.

And there he would sit until the crowds filed in, a memoir of a forgotten warrior; a statue on a battlefield.

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ferus was close behind [member="Lord Kataklysmos"] when he entered. Never one to keep his foe waiting, the Sith Lord walked in just as his soon to be adversary sat down. Red eyes burned underneath the tattered cloak as those fiery orbs focused in on the Twi'lek. A rare site to be sure. Rather than exchange words or simply wait for an audience however the Assassin flicked his red blade to life, letting the blood color bathe the area in its glow. Ever impatient. On his wrist was none other than his hidden blade, the second weapon of choice. It was rare to be used though, and the Lord didn't expect he'd have to.

"Best we get started then, no reason to stall."

 

[Lord Kataklysmos]

Kataklysmos did not rise or even open his eyes in acknowledgement he simply sat. He drew out his actions. He had Ferus' attention and Ferus had his, whether or not it was outwardly apparent.

"[member="Darth Ferus"], I presume?" Kataklysmos responded, "Don't you care to allow others to witness our duel?"

He smiled. Kataklysmos could feel the impatience. "As a man of your stature I would expect you to want to claim glory in front of an audience... Or at least provide those who wish to learn a reference point for excellence. Surely you care about the health of the students' minds."

Kataklysmos was getting a feel for his opponent he knew only a little about.

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Riiiight." The elongated word was clearly meant to show the Sith's annoyance. Yet from that Epicanthix mind there was no emotion to be felt. Only his body language could show how he felt. And it was a mix of both annoyance and impatience that clouded his stance. A slight bounce was clear in his blade as he let it roll about in his fingers. The hum as the blade moved filled the air, always with the set rhythm of a bouncing knee. Darth Ferus always needed to be on the move.

There was a distinct smell of alchohol on his person, which could easily become apparent to [member="Lord Kataklysmos"] as the wind blew past. Was he drunk? There was a sway in his form, so subtle to the untrained eye, as if he was. Even as skilled with a blade as this Sith Lord was, it seemed his drink choice of earlier may have begun to affect him. Yet even as he swayed so discretely, there was an unnatural focus in his burning eyes. Something was amiss.

"Well, when you feel up and ready to stop sitting and actually fight, lemmi know. I'll just do the dark and brooding death stare till then."

 

[Lord Kataklysmos]

Kataklysmos made note of the putrid scent of alcohol. He didn't trust a man who was under its influences, made the man unpredictable and often times rash. Kataklysmos didn't want to claim victory over a man who's mind was addled. He needed a man sharp, otherwise it would've been far too simple to use his whiles to gain the upper hand.

Kataklysmos opened his eyes and rose gingerly to his feet. He moved a bit slower than he used to, because of deep injuries he had received in his youth battling Jedi.

"Perhaps you should sober up, Lord Ferus. It would do me no gains to defeat a half-wit." Kataklysmos announced with vigor. "You insult me with this brash introduction; that you are already looking past this encounter that you'd show up drunk; THAT YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT ME, LORD KATAKLYMOS, AT YOUR WORST!"

Kataklysmos was more deadly than he had ever been when he was a simple bladesman, and he was a good bladesman once upon a time. But his wisdom and connection to the Force had insurmountably improved with the degradation of his body.

"Believe me, I would love nothing more than to prove my greatness among this new breed of Sith, by defeating a man of your perceived reputation." He inhaled sharply. "...But on my terms."

 

[Darth Ferus]

If not for the hood, [member="Lord Kataklysmos"] would have seen a single brow raise on Ferus's face. Did he actually buy into the drunken Sith Lord facade so easily? If he truly knew who the Sith Assassin was by reputation, then deception should have been something to look out for. The deadly focus in the eyes of Ferus watched the Twi'lek stand up and speak. Words were listened to but ignored. The Red Assassin had not come here to prove himself to students. Or to other Sith.

He came because he was bored.

When the inhale came, the Assassin brought up his hand in a quick jab like motion. The jab was ultimately useless, but the surge of the Force coming out as a focused push for his adversaries throat was a bit more different. Despite the distance, it would feel as if Ferus had literally punched him. This wasn't going to be enough to do anything to a rival Lord, and Ferus expected Kataklysmos to brush it aside.

But that was all part of the facade.

"You talk to much. Come on. I'm as good as I'm gonna get."